


Pretty Guitar Work

by orphan_account



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Hand Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-07
Updated: 2010-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 23:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam gets a secret thrill from watching Tim with his guitar</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Guitar Work

He tips back the icy cold vodka tonic, letting the liquid chill the insides of his mouth before he finally swallows. He's feeling loose and mellow, pleasantly tired from a day in the studio and pleasantly full from their light dinner. The heat of the day has dissipated and the doors to the lanai are open. Lights hung high in the trees point upwards, leaving intricate shadows on the ground. One of them illuminates the man sitting on the chaise outside as his fingers softly pluck the strings of his guitar.

Adam swallows another mouthful of his drink, already feeling the warmth from the ninety proof making his hands and feet tingle. He can't help staring at the long-fingered hands coaxing pleasant music from the battered guitar. He'll go out and join his lover, but not just yet.

He gets up and douses all the lights inside the house, leaving the man outside easier to watch. He's lost in his music, his voice a low murmur as he matches chords and harmonies. He doesn't sing much in front of Adam, so watching him unguarded like this gives Adam a voyeuristic thrill.

If he goes outside, Tim will stop singing, and even worse, he might set the guitar outside. Adam's not quite ready for that to happen yet. He goes to the bar and mixes another drink, quick and stealthy. He moves one of the leather chairs to give himself a better view of the patio.

Tim has started another song, a lazy slow-downed version of a Tejano something or other from his home state. Adam recognizes the finger movements even if the rhythm is slightly off. The languid fire of it suits his mood though. Tim's nimble fingers pluck and pull at the strings and Adam stifles a groan, reaching for his zipper.

He puts the glass down within easy reach, and then pushes his jeans past his thighs. He palms himself through the silk of his briefs, not wanting to go too fast. Tim changes the chord, his entire hand going around the neck of his guitar with his graceful fingers. Adam doesn't have to think very hard to visualize Tim's hand encircling other, more sensitive, objects.

Adam stares, rubbing himself as Tim speeds up the tempo of his song. When Tim switches gears to something that looks like Van Halen, his hand slides quickly up and down the fretboard.

With a groan, Adam pushes his underwear away and mimics Tim's movements with his own hand. His orgasm is gathering in his balls by the time Tim finishes the song and slows his fingers once again. Adam takes his hand away from his cock, and pants, trying to slow his body down to tune his desires to Tim's music.

He picks up the drink and takes another long pull at it, enjoying the chill invading his mouth.

Tim wanders into another melody and Adam copies his movements, playing his own instrument. He winces internally at his pun, but doesn't stop what he's doing. The slow rhythm rises inevitably under Tim's competent hands and Adam feels his own climax building as Tim finds the bridge.

He pulls his hand away quickly before he can go too far, but he can't stop staring at Tim's fingers caressing the guitar. His imagination easily transfers the hands on the strings to hands on his body. He moans loudly, hips thrusting up against non-existent contact.

Outside, Tim raises his head, hands stopping their movement. Adam whimpers in frustration.

"Adam?"

He tips back the glass, letting the rest of the cocktail slide down his throat. He pushes his pants off entirely, and adjusts his briefs before he stands up and joins his lover outside.

"There you are," Tim says. "I was wondering what kept you . . ."

He trails off, staring at Adam's half-clothed state and the obvious tent in the silky underwear. Tim puts the guitar to the side and gazes up at Adam, questions in his eyes that Adam doesn't want to answer.

"I need . . ." he starts, not knowing what to say. They don't usually do things this way. He tries again. "I was watching you play. Your hands. Please, Tim."

Maybe Tim gets it, because he smiles and takes Adam's hand, gently leading him back into the house. Adam doesn't resist when Tim pushes him down onto their bed. Tim hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Adam's briefs. Adam lifts his hips to help his lover slide the underwear off his body. Tim reaches up and pulls Adam's shirt off too.

Adam doesn't know what to do with his hands, and he moves them around restlessly.

"Let me take care of you, okay?" Tim whispers, his hands already tracing notes on Adam's skin. His fingers drift around the swell of Adam's thigh, falling lower, seeking Adam's secret places.

Adam thinks about agile hands pulling pretty music from vibrating strings, and then says, "Yeah."

There's a world of surrender and submission in the simple syllable. Tim gives him another brilliant smile and then applies his clever fingers to his task.


End file.
